


Thus Always to Tyrants

by xlydiadeetz



Series: The Capri Drabbles [7]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Afterlife, Auguste of Vere, Captive Prince - Freeform, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Laurent is grieving my poor son, Other, Post-Marlas, Stars Gazing AU part II, The Regent - Freeform, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, damianos of akielos, laurent of vere, that bastard, yes auguste is dead i ruined a fluffy drabble i know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 07:49:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7706497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xlydiadeetz/pseuds/xlydiadeetz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The nightmares had been getting worse and worse each time. After Marlas, it was impossible for him to fall asleep. He spent weeks up at night, crying in Auguste’s bed. Then, his uncle had asked Paschal to give the young Prince a salve so he could sleep, and it worked. Only that his dreams were worse than being awake.</p><p>Laurent is grieving after the battle of Marlas, and remembers something his brother told him once. </p><p>"Always remember, we have the stars"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thus Always to Tyrants

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I wrote this short drabble last night at midnight while listening to one of Chopin's Ballades and crying.  
> Oh how I cried while writing this.  
> Anyway, this is basically a continuation of 'Stars Align' and I hope you enjoy it<3 I want to thank my friend Ellen for her comments in order to make this piece of work better. She recently wrote a fantastic Damen/Laurent fic that takes place after Kings Rising -and that I beta'ed- so please go check it out too! [http://archiveofourown.org/works/7686781]
> 
> And also, thanks a lot for your kudos!!

The first time, Laurent woke up with a sob. He went very still under the blankets and found himself staring at the opposite wall of his room. He was covered in sweat, and there were still tears running down his face as he touched his cheek.  

His heart was racing inside his chest, and it took him a minute of pure terror to decide it was a good idea to open his eyes. As he did, a heavier darkness surrounded him. He could still see his face, and feel his breath in his neck. His arms holding him in place, reaching and touching him against his will. Then, the touching became strangling, until he could no longer breathe properly.

He was panicking, he knew that. But he did not know how to make it stop. His uncle wasn’t there, but he _had_ been, and probably _will_ be. The thought never left his mind. He felt like he was drowning, reaching for air in a place that had none.

The nightmares had been getting worse and worse each time. After Marlas, it was impossible for him to fall asleep. He spent weeks up at night, crying in Auguste’s bed. Then, his uncle had asked Paschal to give the young Prince a salve so he could sleep, and it worked. Only that his dreams were worse than being awake. All he could see was the same scenes over and over;  the first one about his brother being slaughtered like a pig in the field by Damianos of Akielos, and the second one…was about his uncle.

He swallowed hard against the knot on his throat. He was disgusted.

_He was disgusting._

He didn’t want to think about it, but his mind was mischievous, even towards himself. It always wandered back to that moment, and he cursed himself each time. He didn’t want to be alone. He had thought…he would understand, more than anyone, what it was like to lose a brother. And instead, he had fallen into a twisted board game he didn’t know how to get out of. It was like a spider web, once you’re in, you cannot escape. And the more you try to, the more tangled you get.

Laurent rose from the bed  and moved to get a wet towel and clean his face. Perhaps that could help him feel slightly better. The floor was cold, and he grimaced as his feet touched the ground. As he walked towards the bath, he realized how tired he was. His limbs were heavy, and he could feel the start of a headache. The sickening feeling never left, neither the exhaustion, but the nightmares remained to haunt him down. He wondered how much longer he could keep on with it. He thought that, eventually, either his body or his mind would give in. He wet the towel and cleaned his face with it, the tears and sweat disappearing.

 _At least for a moment._ He thought.

He was torn between the idea of going back to sleep or staying up, maybe reading, or just staring at the ceiling. His brain hurt, and he was no longer thinking. He wanted rest, peace. He wished he didn’t feel anything. He wished to be someone different. He thought that, maybe, if he was more of an asshole, he could endure grief better.

_I can’t think._

The young Prince made his way back to bed and tucked himself in. Staring at the ceiling helped him keep his mind blank for a while, until sleep came and he gave in without putting up a fight.

 

***

_“Laurent. Laurent, brother, are you awake?”_

The second time, Laurent woke up to Auguste’s voice. He sat up immediately, his heart stopping in the process.

“Auguste?”

 _It was just a dream._ Logic said.

But he had heard him so clearly. Exactly like that one night. He thought that if he concentrated enough, he could still see him above him, smiling, his long golden hair falling on his face as he leaned over to whisper to him.

_“Laurent. Laurent, brother, are you awake?”_

He closed his eyes and he felt the usual pain on his chest. The ache of loss. Grief. Pain beyond measure. His brother was dead.

_"You must come with me now. I want to show you something amazing.”_

He almost yelled. He wanted his mind to stop. It was too painful, too exhausting. He was hurting, like he had never been before. He thought he’d never stop feeling like he himself was dying.

“Stop. Please…stop.” He said, even though he knew he was talking to an empty room.

_“The world is cruel, Laurent. And life is hard. But… no matter how dark it can seem sometimes, always remember, we have the stars.”_

He opened his eyes and cleaned his tears away, “Auguste?” he whispered.

Always remember, we have the stars.

He didn’t think about it twice. He got up and ran out of his room, not caring about shoes or a coat to cover his body from the cold weather. Laurent of Vere didn’t believe in spirits, but maybe his own mind was trying to tell him something important. Something he forgot, that could be in his subconscious.

Or maybe he was finally losing his mind.

Either way, he thought that if he had to stay another minute alone in his chambers, he’ll be sick. Or go mad. Or both.

 

Laurent ran through the halls in Arles. He ran, barefoot, cold, half awake and half asleep. He ran, but he felt like he was falling down a spiral of hell. And he felt it all; happiness as he remembered Auguste and him running through the same halls millions of times, sadness because he knew that would never happen again, pain, because he had been there at Marlas and finally, rage.

Damianos of Akielos.

 _One day,_ he thought, _I will face him. And he will die._

As he reached the gardens, he found the spot his brother used to lay down in and watch the stars. The air reached his lungs, and he found himself able to breathe again. It was comforting, and refreshing. He lay down on the grass and hugged himself. It was cold. summer had ended long ago, and now they were preparing for the end of autumn and the start of winter. A cold, veretian winter. He thought of Auguste, of how much he loved snow. And as he gazed up at the sky, he felt tears running down his face yet again.

Stars. We have stars.

He could not see any constellation, he couldn’t see more than a bunch of bright points in a dark sea. And in that minute, Laurent of Vere, an overwhelmed fourteen years old Prince, felt another dagger stuck in his chest.

 

_Auguste, I can’t find Gemini. Or Orion, or Aries._

_Auguste, tell me again how to find Cassiopeia. You never finished the story about her daughter._

_Auguste. Who am I going to watch the stars with, now?_

 

***

 

“Laurent. I am so sorry.” He said. He repeated it a hundred times, even when he knew his brother couldn’t hear him. He kept saying it, hoping that one day, the feeling would reach him. He couldn’t bare to see him breaking his own heart over and over again, and growing up painfully. He couldn’t rest, knowing that Laurent was in danger, and that he was also destroying himself. So he stood there, by his side, always. Until he was safe, until those words could reach him, until the fight was over.

 

Auguste of Vere stood there, next to his brother, in life and death.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can always find me on twitter as @princesgambit


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